


Riot

by ded_i_am_just_ded



Series: After Hours [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: After Hours AU, Choking, Guns, M/M, Mafia AU, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-02-07 05:57:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12834768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ded_i_am_just_ded/pseuds/ded_i_am_just_ded
Summary: Two days later a piano shows up at the apartment and Mama Lilia fires him without explanation.The conclusion to the After Hours AU series





	1. один

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tootsonnewts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tootsonnewts/gifts).



> The final part to the After Hours AU. It was getting a bit long, so I've broken it into two chapters. (Also, I wanted to get part of it out for toot's birthday). Highly suggest you read the first two parts of the series or this one won't make sense.
> 
> As with the other parts, the title and chapter based on a song. This time we're going to go old-school Bullet For My Valentine, [Riot](https://youtu.be/IE9YmOprijk). Had this baby on repeat for a lot of writing this chapter.
> 
> Mood board for chapter one from the wonderful titaniumplatedspine!!

****

** RIOT : один **

He doesn't bring up their initiation with Jean-Jacques, but he can see the memory playing in the other's blue eyes when he joins them in the back seat of the Pakhan’s car. He can see the memory behind his own eyelids when he blinks away exhaustion and breaks the stare. Warehouses make him think of cliche mob movies, probably for good reason. It's just before midnight and they've been casing the building for hours, others have been here for days, watching and waiting. The other party is late and Yakov is not happy, they all know it's an intimidation tactic and they've done this enough times to know it won't work.

When the silver SUV pulls in, he can feel the air dissolve into tension. He's checked his guns at least twelve times since they arrived, he can feel them pressed against his arms in a cold comfort as they watch the other party climb out of their vehicle. He frowns when the driver stays. The Pakhan looks at Otabek with a sideways glance, he nods in acknowledgement then pulls himself out of the car.

It's a signal, the two cars ahead of them and one behind open their doors and men emerge. He feels better knowing Jean-Jacques has his back, even with having the cloud of other men surrounding him and the bulletproof vest hiding under his clothes. But Otabek knows there's more than one way to die in a warehouse, the snipers in the rafters are proof of that.

He thinks of spun-gold hair and thin, warm fingers on his skin as he closes the car door and silently asks the nymph he left in his apartment for a little bit of luck.

\------*------

Jean-Jacques tells Yakov just who Otabek keeps at home, because he has to. Yakov calls Otabek and tells him to bring his pet with him. Yuri has never seen such a large house or been lead through such extravagant rooms. His eyes go everywhere and he doesn’t understand anything more than he did when he listened in on the conversation. Otabek puts his hand on the small of Yuri’s back and pushes him into a large, dark office, then steps around him and speaks with the old man Yuri knows from the late nights at the diner in a language he doesn’t speak or recognize. Yakov’s eyes never leave Yuri, he’s not sure what the expression on his face means.

In the end, he never gets to say anything. Yakov makes a decision, Yuri can see it in his expression, and the blonde is dismissed with a wave of a hand. Otabek says something, like he’s protesting, but Yakov doesn’t answer. Otabek retrieves him with the hand at his back again. As they’re leaving the room, Yuri chances one more glance back and spots the edge of a smile on the old man’s mouth.

Two days later a piano shows up at the apartment and Mama Lilia fires him without explanation.

\------*------

Yakov has been around a long time. Otabek is not the first person he's sat in the booth with, though he may be the last. He knows he's old, knows there are people gnashing at the bit to get to his place, just like he was when he fought his way to the top. He's been around long enough to see the rise and fall of many Families; most crash and burn, some quietly absorb into others and eventually come into his own Family. He's been around long enough that when Jean-Jacques tells him who the pretty, petite blonde is related to, he wonders if maybe now is a good time to retire.

The child (they're all children, as far as he's concerned) is confused, clueless and amazed, standing in his office. It's the one he uses when he wants to read people, intimidate them in an open way, not threatening like he knows his other office is. Yuri doesn't seem intimidated, though if he's sleeping with Otabek then it really shouldn't be a surprise.

In the light of the room, he can see it. A ghost that stands before him in new form. It hurts, but he sees it in his jawline, his ears. His eyes. Eyes that haunt him in his sleep.

He knows Yuri because he knew Nikolai. He watched the map as the boundaries expanded under his soft words and calculating mind. He knows Yuri because Yuri knows the piano, like Yulia did. Yakov knows Yuri because he knew Dimitri, too. He had watched the fateful meeting in the banquet hall and had thought it was like watching two stars collide. Had stood proudly next to Nikolai as Yakov gave his only daughter away. Had cried tears of joy when Yulia has shown him the sonogram images. He knows Yuri because he has Yulia’s eyes and Dimitri’s smile.

Yakov has been around a long time. Long enough to watch empires rise and fall. Long enough to pause on the edge of a warzone to bury his daughter and question if his grandchild is gone as well. Long enough to wish his oldest friend dead.

This is the first time he's felt regret in a long, long time.

\------*------

The air is deathly still. No one speaks, even after Otabek and Jean-Jacques meet the others in the brilliant spotlight of the headlights. It's all a part of the mind game and everyone knows the pieces they play. Three men meet them, one with a leather suitcase, another with the silver glint of a handgun not-so-hidden in his grasp behind his thigh. The third, a middle-aged Asian, keeps his body language casual, does a once-over of both of them, them scoffs and looks around.

Otabek knows there's nothing to look at but moldy crates and old machines, so he focuses on keeping his breath even and his face blank. Eventually, the man tires of waiting and breaks the silence, “We have held up our end of the agreement. I trust you've produced yours as well.” He jerks his head and the one holding the suitcase produces a tablet, turning the screen on before handing it forward. Otabek let's his eyes drop long enough to see Leo standing watch over the movement of packages on a steady video, a large gun in his hands, face looking bored, then looks back up. He keeps his mouth shut, but waves his own hand and feels heat at his shoulder as one of his own men approaches with their own half of the bargain.

Behind him, the Pakhan’s car reverses and backs out of the warehouse, the headlights cast long shadows then vanish and leave the massive room darker. It's a sign for Otabek that work is done and to wrap things up. He turns just enough to take the heavy orange envelope from the man at his side, eyes never leaving the Asians. The one leading them smiles at him, but it's blank and unreadable. He tosses the envelope, and they both watch it hit the ground at his feet. The one with the gun on display moves to retrieve it.

As he's crouched down, the older one opens his mouth again, “How is the Librarian’s grandchild? Have you turned him into a corner whore yet?” Otabek's blood chills and he feels his body betray him and hesitate. It's enough for the man to continue, “I'd gladly take him off your hands. He'd bring in a pretty penny with those eyes and that figure. Even more if the buyer knows whip he is. Did he ask for protection? Or just bend right over and tell you all his secrets while you were in his ass?”

“Beks.” Jean-Jacques’ voice breaks through the red he sees and brings him back. This is a game and he almost lost. He lets the fist he'd been forming drop, and shakes his head to clear it. He turns his head to the voice, brown eyes holding blue, a short connection and silent conversation. He catches just the edge of a smile and takes it as an agreement.

“Our work here is done. Have a pleasant day, gentlemen.” Otabek spins himself on his heel and heads for one of the remaining cars.

“Is that all? No rise from the infamous Kazakh killer? Here I was hoping to see the craftsmanship on your guns in person. I hear they're quite beautiful.” He can hear the laughter in the tone and wonders if the other is trying to start a war on purpose.

Jean-Jacques opens the car door for him, though it's not his place to do so. They trade another look as Otabek's work phone sounds in his pocket. He pulls it out and reads the message to his friend.

“ _We only need one._ ”

He climbs into the front seat and the Canadian flashes him a vicious grin before he closes the door. Tonight, Otabek isn't the one to be afraid of.

There's a high pitched shriek as Jean-Jacques whistles a signal for attention. Otabek watches the men turn to look at him, knowing the ones who can't be seen are watching, too. He holds up two fingers a little higher than his head and sweeps them around once.

It could be a signal to clear out.

It's not and the warehouse lights up like the Fourth of July.

\------*------

Yuri doesn’t remember his mother other than photos papa showed him when he was little. Papa didn’t speak of her often, either, that he can remember. Of course, papa had disappeared when he was seven, so there weren’t many stories for Yuri to remember. His grandfather had kept a photograph on the table next to his recliner, faded and with a tear on the edge, Yuri had only looked at a few times before papa disappeared. It was a younger version of his grandfather, with another old man and two children in front of them. Mama and papa, grandfather had said. He wouldn’t say who the other person was.

The photo vanished when papa did, but Yuri was young and didn’t notice. He wonders now if this is what regret tastes like, staring out the apartment window as snow filters down from gray skies. Questions he’ll never have answers to and answers he didn’t know he had questions for.

He turns his head away and eyes the piano Otabek has made room for in the corner like it’s an infestation. He wants to play it, but at the same time, he’s left that part of his life behind and it doesn’t feel right. Yuri doesn’t know the man who gifted it to them; to him. Otabek says he has no use for it and it won’t go with him when he leaves. Yuri ignores how he doesn’t say the plural, how he doesn’t promise they’ll go anywhere together.

Yuri does that a lot, ignoring things Otabek says. It makes it easier to lie to himself. Like blinders, he can stay ignorant to things he should accept, things that are inevitable. Potya meows at him from her tree and it’s almost sad. He smiles at her and reaches out to scratch her ear. She leans into the touch, purrs and pushes at him until he pets her back. He goes back to looking outside, watches a bus drive through the slush and spray it over the sidewalk and fence surrounding the park. It reminds him of blood spattering his shirt, the walls, the rug.

Potya hisses and scratches at him out of nowhere. It catches him off-guard and he curses her. She pushes her ears against her head and hisses one more time before jumping off the tree and scampering away. He pops his finger in his mouth, tastes copper as his tongue catches beading blood from his new wound. He scowls out the window one more time, then pulls the rope to close the curtains and block out the view.

The piano is less intimidating in the dark.

\------*------

Shadows over shadows. They keep the strobe light going as Otabek watches two men throw their captive into a chair in the center of a cement room, they tie his arms and ankles down, then one yanks the cloth bag off his head. If he hits him a little hard during the removal, it’s no one’s loss. The Asian in the chair looks around as the door behind Otabek closes. There’s nothing to see but Otabek and the strobe light. Shadows and the grim reaper. It’s enough to make the Asian close his eyes again.

Otabek knows what he looks like, it’s intentional. This is what he’s paid for, after all. He lets a corner of his mouth quirk upwards, then reaches out to push a hand into the black hair on the man’s head. It’s greasy, but it crunches when he closes his hand into a fist and yanks. Nothing like the blonde hair he enjoys pulling. This is an entirely different type of pleasure, it makes a different type of energy surge through him. Black eyes open to look at him, wide and terrified. He doesn’t say anything. Waiting is his part of the game.

This one isn’t in charge, but Otabek has seen him at meetings before. He’s not top-ranked but he’s up there. He may not have all the answers, but he’ll have enough. He’ll break easier than anyone higher on the ladder would. He lets his smirk drop and releases his hold, shoving the head away from him.

“What do you want?” The other asks, voice breaking. Otabek shoves his hands in his pockets and walks around him slowly, not speaking, “I don’t know anything, you won’t get anything from me! Let me go or kill me!”

Moments like this, Otabek wishes Jean-Jacques could be here with him, to share a look with. To enjoy just how little this man understands. But Jean-Jacques has a different part in the game. It doesn’t include watching Otabek break a finger to begin with. It doesn’t include watching Otabek turn into the monster he keeps locked inside. When he unleashes it, he lets it slowly take the Asian apart. There are 206 bones in the adult body, and when Otabek is done, the Asian has very few left still intact.

Not that the Asian is alive enough to know it.

\------*------

There’s a hauntingly slow melody that meets him when he gets off the elevator. He’s too tired to acknowledge it until he’s unlocking the front door, but it doesn’t stop, and only gets louder when he steps inside. It’s slow and fragile sounding and makes him pause just as he locks the door behind him. He had figured Yuri wouldn’t touch the piano at all, hearing it tonight of all nights is like a time machine. It drags him back to their first meeting in another apartment.

He moves silently, shedding his shoes and jacket. Yuri is sitting at the piano, his eyes closed, body moving with the music as he plays. Like everything he does, he’s playing with everything he has, puts his soul into his fingertips and into the sound coming out of the instrument. Otabek pauses to watch him, compares the ethereal aura around him to the blood on his own hands.

It cuts off mid-note when Yuri realizes he’s there. Sound dies and they simply stare at each other. Emerald eyes are unreadable as they take in Otabek’s appearance. Otabek doesn’t try to hide anything. What can he hide behind? This is who he is, and they have always circled around it. He is a monster to Yuri’s soft angelique figure. He is covered in blood and shadow, will probably drown in it in the end, where Yuri is in the soft yellows and whites of his robe and the sunrise sneaking through cracks in the curtains. There is a breath without air, and Yuri is moving, standing in front of him, looking up at him. It hurts.

It burns when he brushes fingertips over Yuri’s cheek, pushes blonde hair back and runs it through his fingers. Yuri closes his eyes and leans into the touch. So much trust when Otabek could snap his neck in seconds. Otabek closes his fingers and pulls, a softer echo of his night. The sound it pulls from Yuri is decidedly prettier than anything else he’s heard the last few hours.

A delicate hand wraps around his wrist and pulls. He lets go, only to have Yuri open his eyes again and stare at him like he’s reading his soul. There’s still no words, it seems there hardly ever is, and Otabek finds himself being pulled to the bedroom. The room is warm and dark, Yuri flicks on a lamp as he passes the dresser, but doesn’t release his grip til they are at the foot of the bed. Only then, he turns to face Otabek and lets go. The taller stills, waits. This is not a game, he knows. He doesn’t know rules here.

Yuri doesn’t look at him, but fingers reach up and begin undoing the buttons on his shirt. They don’t hesitate, even as they reach the ones surrounded by blood. Otabek stops him though, grabs both his wrists and forces him to look up. Those haunting eyes simply watch him for what feels like an eternity, before he says, “I’ve seen worse.” as if it makes everything better. It settles something in Otabek, he supposes, because he loosens his hold and Yuri shakes free, resuming his task. When all the buttons are undone and the shirt untucked, feather-soft touches push at his shoulders and drag the fabric down.

Otabek moves like he’s being pulled in, leaning down to grab Yuri’s lips with his own. There’s no protest, only the push and pull of acceptance and Yuri answers the call, fingers pausing at Otabek’s biceps only briefly. But then Yuri is opening his mouth, urging the kiss on, and pushing the fabric down and away, letting it hit the floor and be forgotten. Hands push into Otabek’s hair and whatever calm Otabek had thought had descended on them vanishes.

He is lust, and greed. He pushes against the lithe body, fingers on hips that he pulls closer, his mouth devours everything Yuri gives him, lips, tongue, soft noises. They break away only for Otabek to dip back in and claim Yuri’s neck, to feel Yuri’s fingers dig into the back of his own, to pull at him as if they could merge into one being. He growls, feels the monster in him rumble, and lifts Yuri up by the thighs, throws him onto the bed.

There’s no protest, only a soft huff, then a smile as Yuri watches Otabek peel off his undershirt. Warm fingers dance over his abs, up his chest, grabbing, pulling, until Otabek caves and crashes down between Yuri’s legs to kiss him again. He pushes down, grinds against Yuri, pulls back as the robe splits apart and he feels much less fabric than he was expecting. A quick glance down, then the smirk on Yuri’s face is all he needs to realize Yuri is nude under the robe.

Fingers pull him down again and the kitten puts his lips to Otabek’s ear to murmur, “Welcome home.”

He enjoys the noise that escapes Yuri when he pins his wrists to the bed above the blonde’s head. The breathless sound that follows as he pushes fabric aside and latches onto a nipple is just a bonus, one that he’ll probably take to his grave. Yuri tries to twist under him, but there isn’t anywhere to go, and Otabek’s teeth nipping in warning puts a stop to the movement quickly. He shifts to attack the other nub, releasing Yuri’s hands again, pleased when they only find their way into his hair.

He doesn’t there stay long, sitting up to undo the tie on Yuri’s robe. Yuri drapes himself back on the bed like a work of art and offers no assistance. Once the knot is undone, he simply pushes the fabric off Yuri’s hips, but makes no move to remove it otherwise. He traces his hands over pale skin and Yuri closes his eyes again, accepts the touch as solid fact. It settles heavy in Otabek and the monster inside him rumbles.

He pulls away only long enough to get lube and a condom, smears the gel over his fingers and warms it quickly, then tossing the bottle aside. Yuri holds his own legs up, spreads them wide and smiles through hazy eyes. He arches as Otabek pushes a finger in, pausing at the first knuckle, then all the way in when Yuri whines. He doesn’t wait to add a second and the noise it pulls from Yuri is music. The kitten pushes the crown of his head into the mattress, spreads his legs wider, tries to lift his hips and roll them, as if it will hurry the process along. Otabek takes his time instead. Savors the noises as he takes the blonde apart carefully.

He pushes three fingers in and scissors, only to be told in English, “Enough. Please _._ ” And then Russian, “ _Please, I need you now._ ”

He undoes his pants, lets them hang on his hips and pulls his cock out. Yuri watches and licks his lips, a small dart of a pink tongue, drops a hand to stroke himself slowly as he waits. Otabek keeps his eyes there as he rolls the condom onto himself, then grabs for Yuri’s hips and hauls him to the edge of the bed. It causes another surprised noise, and then a laugh that Otabek quickly morphs into a moan as he pushes into the tight heat in one move.

He stills, wraps his hands around the other’s ankles and holds them up and out, spreading him open. He waits, feels the other pulse around him and tries to reign himself in. Control is slipping so quickly, especially when the kitten issues a soft whine and tries to move, to pull himself off and impale himself again. He lets go of the ankles and the lock around his hips instantly, pull him forward so he has to hold himself up by his knuckles. He starts moving, and there’s nothing gentle about it. Yuri seems to only urge him on, fingernails in his shoulders and the way he calls his name, like he’s begging him for something.

He stills, straightens and Yuri pulls his knees towards his shoulders, still spread wide. He can’t resist touching, soiling the angel he’s destroying bit by bit. His tan hands over pale skin. It all burns the same, and he’s mesmerized by it. He doesn’t realize he’s stopped moving until Yuri’s hands are on his wrists. They pull gently, guiding his hands up over Yuri’s chest. Yuri’s eyes are solid pools that show him how serious he is as he carefully wraps Otabek’s hand around his throat.

Otabek presses. Yuri’s eyes hold his until Otabek rolls his hips. Emeralds vanish and Yuri makes one more noise before Otabek cuts it off with his pressure. He feels the difference, the way Yuri’s body changes around him, even with the condom. He holds on.

He could kill him now, he realizes. It could be an accident. Yuri would let him.

He presses and feels Yuri tighten around him. So impossibly tight, until he can’t move but a few sharp thrusts that barely change anything but give him enough friction. He presses and feels the coil in his stomach that unleashes an orgasm just as Yuri’s body reacts similarly. He presses until Yuri’s hand goes loose on his own dying erection. He slowly lets go.

Beneath him, Yuri inhales.

\------*------

Yakov uses his cane to help him sit as children race across the playground, screaming and laughing. It would hurt, if he thought about it, so he doesn’t. Instead he thinks about how much his back hurts in this early winter chill and what he’s going to do with the pile of papers waiting for him on his desk when he gets home.

Very little surprises him these days, so he’s not surprised when the blonde sits beside him. He’s not surprised when the blonde’s shoulder touches his. He’s more surprised by how natural it all feels, to sit here and watch the world go by while Yulia’s son sits beside him. They don’t speak to each other, but Yakov turns his head just enough to catch a soft smile playing on the edge of the other’s mouth.

Maybe this is what redemption feels like. For the first time in a long time, he hopes Yulia is watching over him. Them.

\------*------

Yuri sits at the kitchen table and braids his hair. His phone is in front of him, propped up and playing a movie that he’s not really paying attention to. There’s movement in other parts of the apartment, Otabek getting ready to leave. Yuri listens closer to those sounds and pretends he doesn't. One day, he thinks, it will be the last time he hears him. There's something soothing about the routine of Otabek checking his guns, then buttoning his shirt, then pulling on his suit jacket. Yuri knows after that he'll check his reflection, then find Yuri for goodbyes. They're coming up to that part. Otabek seems to be stalling this time.

He undoes the braid, digs his fingers through his hair and stares blankly at his phone screen. Everything heads towards an inevitable end Yuri can't see. Everyone but himself seems to know how the story ends. He lets his hands fall to his lap and tries to center himself.

“I’ll be back tomorrow at the latest. Put the chain on the door behind me.” Otabek’s voice is warm and Yuri closes his eyes to savor it, he nods, then tips his head back as Otabek puts a hand on his shoulder. He lets the top of his head sink into Otabek’s stomach and opens his eyes to look up at him. There’s the ghost of a smile, a rare sight, and Yuri burns it into his memory.

And then Otabek is moving away. Yuri twists, reaches for and pulls on the taller man’s tie, stands and drags him back to him. He adjusts the knot on it, not that it was out of place, but he needs something to do with his hands, then looks up to meet Otabek’s eyes, “Be careful.”

Otabek studies his face, Yuri lets him, hopes he can read everything there. All the words he can’t say and all the thoughts he can’t straighten out. Before Otabek can step away, Yuri closes the distance and ghosts a kiss over his lips.

And then he lets go and walks away first.

\------*------

Everyone has a debt to pay, everyone’s time comes eventually. Otabek has always figured his would be from a major mistake on someone else’s part. A betrayal or an undercover cop. Not from his own carelessness. Not from his thoughts drifting to green eyes and pale skin and wandering thoughts of a different light. He walks with a cigarette tucked in his lips, smoke curling skyward, eyes scanning a book but not really reading. The neighborhood is quiet, so he doesn’t think.

He nods to Leo in the doorway, tucks the book away. Leo drops into step beside him, brushing hair out of his face then taking Otabek’s cigarette when he offered it, finishing it as they walk down the dark corridor, not talking. They meet Katsuki at the end of the hall, he looks as nervous as always, shifting his weight and glancing around, twisting his hands at his waist. He visibly relaxes when he sees them.

“You’re late. Were you followed?”

Otabek shakes his head, passes a small keycard to Leo without a word. Katsuki steps around Leo, who goes to a solid metal door, and close to Otabek, “Otabek,” Katsuki’s voice is low, “Viktor wants to meet him.”

Otabek frowns, “Not now, Katsuki.”

“Now is the only time I can talk to you.” The Asian smiles, puts a hand on Otabek’s bicep, “You’re a hard man to get hold of. Viktor wants to see him. He’s convinced himself your Yuri is his missing cousin. Just a breakfast? Or a dinner. Bring him to dinner one night. I’ll cook _katsudon_.”

The door Leo has been standing at beeps and bursts open with a rush of cold air. Otabek looks at it then back at Katsuki, “I’ll ask him. I’m not his keeper.”

Katsuki smiles.

They’re stepping into the room when all hell breaks loose.

\------*------

Someone knocks on the door. It’s a firm 3 knocks, then silence. Something about it feels important, it makes Yuri pause in pouring his fourth cup of coffee. He listens, but nothing happens, so he slips the pot back in the machine and abandons his cup on the counter to go see who is at the door. He avoids the part of the floor that creaks when it’s stepped on and silents steps up to the peephole, peers through to spy on the hallway.

Jean-Jacques is there, hands in his pockets, speaking with someone he’s never seen before. The man is slightly taller than him, which seems almost impossible, considering how tall Jean-Jacques is, and is wearing an expensive looking tan suit. Yuri hesitates for a moment, chews on his lip, then undoes the deadbolt and creeps the door open as far as the chain allows, peering out into the hall.

They both turn to look at him, and the stranger has startlingly clear blue eyes and silvery hair. A soft smile slides onto his lips and he opens his mouth to speak, but Jean-Jacques beats him to it, “Yuri. Are you dressed? We have to move you.”

“What?” Yuri straightens, hand tightens on the doorknob, “What’s going on?”

“There was an attack, everything is compromised. Hurry and get a bag together, there isn’t a lot of time.” Jean-Jacques pushes at the door, but it can’t go anywhere with the chain.

“What about Otabek? Where is he?” _Don’t let anyone in. Don’t trust anyone._ At the moment, Yuri isn’t sure he can trust Jean-Jacques, “Who is that?”

“This is Viktor Nikiforov.” Jean-Jacques hesitates, glances at the other man, then says, “He’s next in line after Yakov. Otabek has been taken, along with a few others. They were loaded into a vehicle and carted off. Enough questions, Yuri, let’s go.”

Yuri’s heart is in his throat, invisible hands choke at him, laying claim to him in rougher ways than Otabek’s had. He nods once, closes the door, and moves through the apartment in a daze. Otabek has been kidnapped. Everything is compromised. Otabek may be dead already.

He pulls a gun from a hiding spot under the coffee table, checking it like Otabek had shown him before stepping towards the bedroom. He should probably collect clothes.

Potya makes a noise behind him, draws his attention. He’ll need her as well. She’s hiding under the piano, shrinks away when he reaches for her. It’s then he realizes his fingers are shaking, and that he’s been holding his breath. He forces himself to breathe, and leaves her there, goes to find her carrier and shove the gun and clothes inside a duffle bag. She still doesn’t respond when he returns, then runs when someone knocks on the door again.

Yuri breathes a curse under his breath, goes to the door and throws it open. It’s the silver-haired man, smiling in a way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Yuri doesn’t like it. He shoves the duffle bag at his chest, “Take this, I have to catch my cat. I’ll be down in a minute.” He shuts the door without waiting on a response.

The living room is quiet, other than the sounds of traffic outside. As if life is continuing on, just another day. He looks around and realizes there isn’t much to take. Otabek had always been prepared for this, everything here is Yuri’s influence. The blanket on the couch, the cat tree, the television in the far corner. He stares at the piano.

He’s pushing the fallboard up before he realizes what he’s doing. White keys glaring like beacons in the afternoon light. He pushes down on one, listens to the sound echo around him. The noise scares Potya out of hiding and across the room. He doesn’t hesitate, his fingers dance, pound, push emotion out of him in the only way he’s known for years. Panic, anger, frustration. And then he stops. Mid note, he lifts his fingers from the keys and lets the last sounds die out around him. He closes his eyes, and breathes.

Yuri turns and picks up the bench from behind his knees and throws it across the room. It hits the kitchen counter with a crack. It breaks something open in him and he tears the room apart. He starts with the piano.

He doesn’t realize he’s screaming until there’s nothing left to destroy.


	2. два

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tonight we’re alive, there’s no time to sleep_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _IT'S THE END OF THE STORY AS WE KNOW IT_
> 
> I know I left it hanging for _forever_ but here it is! Drumroll please!

  
**  
RIOT : два  
**

Otabek has always lived in chains. They’ve been invisible up until now, but he’s never been fooled by the false sense of freedom he’s possessed. They still weigh on him as consciousness calls to him, he can feel them under the cold press of metal wrapped around his wrists and twisting down his arms. He’s hung from a ceiling, his fingers and shoulders are numb enough to tell him he’s been there a while and his feet tingle and burn where the blood has pooled in them. He cracks his eyes open, tries not to give away that he’s come to.

There’s voices nearby, they’re speaking in another language, laughing like they’ve won already. They don’t understand that Otabek is nothing. He looks around and sees Katsuki and Leo hanging nearby. There’s blood on Leo’s face, coming from his hairline and down over his eye. It’s dark and looks dry, so it’s an older wound. Katsuki’s shoulder is bent weird and Otabek guesses it’s been knocked out of its socket. He’s glad both of them are still unconscious.

There’s a cough, much nearer than before, and suddenly there are two Asian men standing in front of Otabek. One looks more amused than the other and they speak in the language he doesn’t understand. The serious one steps forward and throws a punch straight into Otabek’s solar plexus, and he sees stars, feels his body try to curl around the pain. He bites his lip to try to stop the noise escaping him. That seems to amuse them both. They talk to each other again.

Otabek watches them, but without understanding them, he can’t read anything off of them. He’s probably going to die here, he figures. They don’t seem the type to make mistakes, and he’s pretty sure they know he’s responsible for the warehouse incident. They move to walk away, so he twists, tries to gain feeling back in his arms.

The one that looked amused before turns around and shoots him.

\------*------

Yuri expects to be shoved into a safe house and forgotten. Instead, the silver-haired man--Viktor--tells Jean-Jacques to take them “ _there_ ”. He doesn’t know what that means, but it makes Jean-Jacques frown and grip the steering wheel tighter. Yuri shifts in the back seat and tries to calm Potya, who cries in soft meows that he has never heard before. It’s like the cat knows what’s going on and is scared of the inevitable.

They drive through downtown, then into residential areas, then back through downtown and Yuri realizes Jean-Jacques is making sure they aren’t being tailed. Eventually, he gets on the interstate and heads out of town. Yuri leans forward in his seat, his eyes blankly surveying the empty expanse as they head into the country. He looks, but he doesn’t see. Instead, he sees dark eyes, feels warm hands on his hips and lips on his neck. He raises a hand to touch his throat, but it’s not the same.

_Otabek. Please be alright._

Jean-Jacques takes an exit, eventually, and heads down to a dirt road that he takes that weaves through a small forest. At the end, it curves up a small hill and exposes a small, simple farmhouse. They stop in the front yard and climb out. Yuri hesitates, everything in him telling him this is so wrong, that he should turn around and go back.

Instead he grabs the cat carrier and his bag and follows them out of the vehicle and up the small set of steps and through the front door of the house. Inside is anything but a house. The windows are covered with plastic and the first room is completely empty. 

Jean-Jacques motions for Yuri to follow him and takes him up a set of stairs. He opens a closed door and turns to look at the blonde, “Stay in here. We probably won’t stay long.”

“What’s going on?” Yuri forces the other to look him in the eye, “I want to help.”

Jean-Jacques shakes his head, “The best thing you can do is stay here. Stay out of it. I told Beks I’d protect you if anything ever happened to him, and you can do that by staying here.”

“Jea-”

“Please, Yuri. Let us work. There isn’t much time.” Yuri hears the tired pleading and he wonders when the last time Jean-Jacques had slept was. He draws out the silence, sets the cat carrier down inside the doorway, then turns back to him before he nods. Jean-Jacques’s shoulders relax, then he silently reaches out to pull the door closed.

 _There isn’t much time._ Which means there’s still time. There’s still hope. Yuri sinks down and opens the carrier. Potya stays curled up inside and Yuri doesn’t blame her.

\------*------

Viktor bursts into the room, eyes glittering and hard. Yakov watches them survey the scene until they land on him and Viktor moves forward. Yakov doesn’t stand, instead he moves papers towards him silently.

“Has there been any contact yet? Any demands?” Viktor sinks into the chair to his left at the small round table. Yakov shakes his head and the other curses softly, “So they don’t really want anything at all. They just want to hit us where it hurts.”

“They’re sending a reply to our message. They have the product, as well.”

“They took all of it?” Viktor’s hands shake, so he sets the papers down and hides them beneath the table. Yakov understands, he feels very similar, “I’ll kill every last one of them. If they’ve hurt a hair on Yuuri’s head, I swear…” He trails off.

Yakov thinks of the Yuri upstairs, knowing it’s not who Viktor is speaking of. It’s not blonde hair and a heavy Russian accent on his mind. Yakov lets his chair tilt backwards, steepling his fingers in front of him, “We will not do anything foolish. I’ve already sent out some men to scout. If we can find where they’re keeping them we--”

“I’ll lead the team.”

“Vitya.”

Viktor looks at him again and Yakov can’t finish whatever warning he was going to give. Jean-Jacques appears, running a hand through his hair, he shrugs when Yakov raises an eyebrow, then swings the chair across from him around and drops onto it.

“How is he?”

“Not as shaken as I thought he would be. Maybe in shock?” Jean-Jacques folds his arms on the back of the chair and puts his chin on top of them, giving a quick look over the papers spread on the table, “He’ll be fine, I think. Considering his family background and all.”

Viktor frowns, looks between them, “What background?”

Yakov shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter right now. He’s safe here, the rest is inconsequential.” He ignores the look Viktor gives him, “The boys are preparing in the barn, if you want to go watch over them, Jean.” Jean-Jacques shrugs and stands, adjusts his holster and rolls down his shirt sleeves, looking like he doesn’t want to go yet. Yakov lets it go on for too long, then, “Is there something else?”

Jean-Jacques hesitates, then puts his hands on the table and leans forward, “Is this okay? To have him here? We could have taken him to a safe house. Here, he’s involved. Beks tried to keep him out of all of this and now we’re just pulling him into the nest.”

Yakov could really go for a strong drink right about now. He begins to pull the papers in and organize them, thinking. No, it’s probably not okay. If things go south, who knows how the boy will react. He expects Yuri will take it hard if they find anything other than a living, breathing Otabek. He knows Nikolai’s temper, he knows his own. He’s been second guessing himself ever since he’d learned of Yuri's existence. Yakov takes a deep breath, instead of voicing his thoughts, he replies, “I don’t pay you to think.”

Jean-Jacques knows him too well, knows it’s not what he wants to say, but he doesn’t speak again, just adjusts his holster one more time, nods to Viktor, and leaves, his footsteps heavy on the stairs.

Viktor puts clasped hands on the table and leans forward, “Do you want to tell me what's going on with the kid?”

He shouldn't care this much about a stranger. He taps the edge of the pile of papers on the table and looks away, “No.”

Viktor doesn't ask again and stands, pulling on grey leather gloves, “Then let's go get my husband.”

\------*------

He carries the pain like a shield. Even as they pull him down, his arms burn in a way that keeps him awake and aware. His legs won't work properly, so one grabs him under the arm and drags him away from the others. 

This is it, this is where he dies. He falls into the chair they give him, and doesn't resist when they tie him down. He knows this game, and isn't surprised when the lights go out.

Something presses into the bullet hole in his arm and he fights off a scream as the darkness turns brilliant white behind his eyes. Someone is talking, but he doesn't understand. It doesn't matter, they have everything anyways. This is all just formality.

Fingers thread into his hair and pull, not like the kitten, and he hates that he thinks of him. But it gives him focus, gives him purpose. He smiles at the darkness, like it's an old friend.

\------*------

There is silence, but then there is _silence_. Like holding his breath, Yuri can't hear anything at all. He watches through the corner of the window shade as people file into the barn out back, then don't come out. Something big is happening, and Yuri hates that he's on the sidelines.

The large door on the barn slides open and cars and vans roll out, one right after the other, lights turned off, engines purring, stirring something inside of himself. He watches them head down the drive, out of his view, then goes to find his bag. 

The gun is heavy in his hands, he turns it over a few times, aims it at the wall once, then stands, heads for the door. Potya issues a noise from her carrier, so he drops down, bends over to look in at her. “I'm sorry,” his voice cracks, “I have to go. I'll come back, but I can't just sit here.”

Potya just stares at him, curled into a ball of fluff. He tries to smile at her, then stands up. A deep breath feels like adding weight to his shoulders, but he squares them anyway and opens the door. 

\------*------

The march like ants across the city, then break apart like a piece of dance, perfectly timed. The end will be the same, but the movement is seemingly random and inconsistent. No one notices the little silver car that follows at a distance, probably because they are too focused on what’s ahead, not behind. It begins to rain, a perfect addition to make this mob movie-esque drive complete, Yuri cranks up the windshield wipers and leans forward, trying to peer through the sheets so he doesn’t lose them. He feels like he’s driving forever when the car he’s been following pulls into a parking lot of a gas station. 

He drives past, turns the next corner and circles around in time to watch the three occupants run across the street and vanish down an alleyway. He parks at the curb and climbs out, fingers going to the gun tucked into his pants, and follows on foot. He thinks he may have lost them when he comes to a T in the alleyway, but there’s a smoldering cigarette on the ground, smoke like a signal flare. He crushes it with his foot and heads in that direction. The pathway eventually opens up to a squat cement building, and he hesitates when he doesn’t see anyone anywhere.

Something in him tells him that building is the one, though. Somewhere inside is Otabek. He pulls the gun out and holds it like Otabek taught him, runs across the open expanse of the road and down the west side of the building, brushing his hair and the rain out of his eyes as he ducks into a covered doorway and looks around. He is just wondering where all of the men are when the first gunshot sounds and he realizes they’re already inside. _Efficient._ He muses, then tries the door behind him. Of course, it’s locked, so he shoots it, counting on the noise inside to cover it up. He isn’t ready for the recoil and stumbles into the wall behind him, punching all the air out of his lungs.

He doesn’t wait, throws himself forward and into the building. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but instinct pushes him into the dimly lit stairwell. He picks a direction and goes down, his footsteps loud on the concrete.

\------*------

Jean-Jacques trusts his gut, always. And his gut is telling him all of this is such a bad idea. Going in guns blazing is dangerous, and they don’t know what their facing. But they have their orders and he knows somewhere inside are his Brothers. They take down the guards in the entryway with little more than a few arm gestures, then move like waves inside, guns read, fingers on the triggers. They don’t ask questions, they just paint the grey walls red and move on.

His earpiece buzzes and someone says they’ve found the loading docks. Yakov tells them to hold position and wait for Jean-Jacques. It’s not that hard to find, once he’s trying. They’re lined up along the wall, one crouched at a double-door with a piece of machinery to one of the doors, listening to movement inside. When Jean approaches, they look up, then stand and nod at him. Someone is inside and that’s enough for him, he undoes the safety on his gun and brings it into a ready position, gesturing orders to the men around him. They all brace, his hand moves, and the doors move silently open.

They flood inside like shadows, and it feels like a trap, how easily they make it in and take cover. Maybe it is, but Jean-Jacques has a mission. He peers around a crate and takes in the docks. Katsuki is there, with Leo. They both seem to be awake, with the way Leo’s head rolls and the soft noises of pain he can hear. There’s no sign of Otabek.

He holds his tongue on a curse, and gestures again, quick hand signals that move them farther into the room. He hangs back, watches the doors for anyone coming at them from behind, so he doesn’t see what goes wrong.

Gunfire sounds a lot like music; like a death anthem sent to welcome them.

\------*------

It's eerie, how quiet everything becomes. When he gets used to the sound of his blood pumping in his ears, when his breath gets shallow, when the darkness eats everything. His arm feels like fire, and it's probably the only thing keeping him conscious, even as he feels blood trickling down his arm from it.

He can't tell what time it is, his body telling him he's been here forever, but it's probably only been minutes or hours. He counts to himself until it becomes too repetitive and he forgets what number he's on. But it doesn't matter, none of it matters. He will bleed out before he gives them anything, he will die if it keeps others safe, it's as simple as that. He is the wall between the world and his Family. He is the dog the end of a tight, long leash.

He's rolling his head, popping his neck, when he hears the scrape of the metal door and quiet footsteps into the room. When they stop, he senses them there, just inches from his knee, but there's nothing else, just a shadow in the dark.

Something crashes into his side, tears his thoughts and breath away from him. Otabek tries to double over, but the restraints stop him, dig into the bullet wound and his stomach. He gaps for a breath, then pushes out, “Go to hell.”

The lights come on and he hisses, closes his eyes as he's met with brilliant white, tries to tuck his chin into his neck, but rough hands grab and force his head up, pushes it back painfully. Something sharp presses into his side, it could be a knife or the end of a pistol, he doesn't know.

“We were going to draw this out.” The voice is heavily accented, Asian of some sort, “But your people are smarter than we thought.” He cracks his eyes open, tries to focus. All he sees is the white of their teeth as they grin, “It doesn't matter for you, though. They're too late. You'll be the parting gift.”

The weapon in his side digs in harder. Fingers press into the wound. He can't help it when it tears the scream out of him. 

He hears his pulse in his ears, and it times perfectly with the blinding white above him and the sound of a gunshot that explodes in the tiny room around him.

\------*------

Someone throws a smoke bomb, and Jean-Jacques watches shadows filter through it from his vantage point. He doesn't know which side it came from, only that people are moving. He holds his fire and watches, waits for the perfect time to move forward. Leo is saying something, he can hear the familiar pitch of his voice, but this is life-and-death and he's not ready to meet his maker yet.

Jean-Jacques presses his back against a crate, breathes, then moves around it, fires at someone moving towards him, then moves on. He steps in blood, but forces himself not to think about it. It's not his, and that's all that's important. That and finding Otabek. 

He's bent behind the last create before the open space to Katsuki and Leo when a body collapses next to him. He startles, then relaxes when he realizes it's Viktor. The other offers him a weary smile, trades out the clip in his handgun, then leans towards him, “Cover me, I've found the release for their chains.” He points towards the wall behind them, the shadows covering a control panel he hadn’t seen before. 

“Alright. Be careful.”

Viktor's eyes crinkle at the edges like Jean-Jacques has told a joke, “I'm too pretty to be shot. And it's almost ours anyway.” He hesitates, “But if anything happens…”

He doesn't finish the sentence. Jean-Jacques takes it as a tell-all. Tell Katsuki this. Take care of Yakov. Save everyone else. Live through this. He doesn't know, but he does, so he nods. Jean-Jacques thinks of Izzy, laughing in the early morning sunlight, of lazy days with her draped over him on the couch. Viktor takes a breath then flies across the room. He follows, gun raised. He is a shield, if anyone dies, it won't be Viktor.

\------*------

“Beka?” He thinks his voice cracks, but he's not sure, because he's partially deaf. He almost loses his grip on the gun as he stumbles forward, so he hastily makes sure the safety is on shoves it back in his waistband. Otabek blinks, stares up at the ceiling. Yuri realizes not all the blood belongs to the fresh corpse on the floor. He catches himself, catches his breath in his chest. Even like this, Otabek is beautiful. A bronze god bleeding out on a wooden chair.

He wants to touch, to make sure he's okay. But first, he moves around him, crouches and frees his hands, moves his fingers over skin to get blood flowing again. He thinks he hears his name, but it's so quiet. He undoes the bindings around Otabek's chest, he hears him inhale sharply, sees him tilt forward, and moves faster than he thinks is human to catch him.

He's burning, and not in good ways. He speaks, says Yuri's name again, and Yuri runs soft fingers through his dirty, bloody hair. He curls over him and a shaking hand wraps around and settles on the small of his back, pulling him closer. 

“I'm here. We've got you.” He pets him and purrs comforting words, English and Russian, out of himself like a waterfall, “It's going to be alright.”

A burning hand touches his hip, drags forward and finds the gun. Yuri stills, an apology on his lips. It unfolds too quickly, The hand around him grabs and pulls him sideways, as the other drags the gun out. He's making a startled noise as it shatters the silence, and instinctively curls around Otabek again. There’s a thump, and Yuri opens his eyes to another body on the floor.

The gun falls, hits the ground like another explosion. Both arms wrap around him, and nothing else matters. They are here. Together. His lips curve into a broken smile before he kisses Otabek’s head. This was the easy part, he figures. He's not sure what to do from here. 

\------*------

“Oh, my Yuuri! Are you okay?” Viktor's voice echoes as he bends over the Japanese man and checks over his wounds. Leo is sitting on a low crate, pressing a piece of his shirt to his head, eyes blank. 

Jean-Jacques wants a cigarette. He'd pulled his pack out, shaken his last one out and discovered his lighter was empty. He'd bother someone in a bit, right now, he had to coordinate a team to find Otabek. Someone is barking Russian over the ear piece, words his scrambled brain can't translate, so he pulls it out of his ear and lets it hang at his neck.

He's pulling his phone out to call Yakov directly when it goes off, almost startling him into dropping it. As it is, when the name “Altin" lights up the screen, he fumbles with it to answer it fast enough. 

“Otabek. Where are you? We've got Katsuki and Leo secured.” It doesn't occur to him until the silence that follows that it might not be his Brother calling.

But then there's a soft sob and he hears Yuri's voice on the line, “Ba...Basement, JJ. Hurry, he's bleeding. I...I don't…”

“I'm on my way, _chaton_.” Then hangs up and heads back into the building, signaling several men nearby to follow him.

He should ask why the kitten is here. If Otabek doesn't scold him later, Jean-Jacques will do it for him.

He forgets to call Yakov until they're on their way to the hospital, and when he remembers, he waits a little longer.

\------*------

His chains weigh him down, pins in his wrists and drag him awake bring an unfamiliar ceiling into focus. He blinks and realizes it's not just his wrists that wake him, but a soft humming from his right. When he turns his head, it hurts and the humming stops. But Yuri is there, his face in an expression he's never seen before. His eyes glittering with a sudden swelling of unshed tears.

Otabek tries to move, but his body won't respond. He simply stares and Yuri does the same. It should unfold like some corny storybook romance, but all Otabek feels is fire. Nothing soft or comforting unravels inside; it uncoils like a viper, hurt and unsure and wavering. He blinks and the feeling settles.

Neither says anything, and Otabek let's the drugs drag him back down. Yuri begins humming again and he takes that sound with him.

\------*------

They sit in the dinner, Yuri pushes his eggs around his plate and tries to avoid eye contact. This is a lot to process. There are things that brush the edges of his memory. He remembers arguing with his cousin, but he can't remember what his cousin looked like. Apparently, he looked like Viktor. And they both are related by the Pahkan.

Viktor smiles at him, and it's in his entire posture, like he's truly happy about this revelation. Yuri scowls at his eggs and thinks about his grandfather. He was supposed to be the last of Yuri's family, and now it's blossomed into more. More bloodlines, more stories, more emotions. He finally shoves the plate back and crosses his arms. 

Beside Viktor is the Asian man he'd seen Otabek talking with before, Yuuri Katsuki. He's obviously nervous and hasn't said a word other than a greeting since he slid into the booth. Which is fine, because Viktor keeps any silence at bay. Yuri is remembering why he always argued with his ghost cousin.

He jumps when his phone goes off and grabs for it in what probably looks like desperation. There's an unknown number on the screen, but he can't stop a grin.

_Where are you? Come home._

Home. The doubts he carries like baggage all get set aside and he stares at the words for too long. There are so many things connected to the words, a whole net of emotions he doesn't want to think about. He turns his phone off with replying and looks up at the couple across from him. He lets Viktor finish his sentence before he breaks in, “I have to go.”

“Go?” Viktor's eyebrow lifts. Yuuri touches his arm and sips his coffee. 

“Home.” He insists, sliding out of the booth.

“Ah,” he hears, but he's already heading for the door, his heart threatening to pound out of his chest.

\------*------

Otabek sits on the couch and Potya jumps up to greet him, nudging against his thigh until he pets her. She settles on his lap, allows the attention for a short time, then jumps to the back of the couch, narrowly avoiding his damaged arm and sling. He leans away out of instinct, and casts a glare in the feline’s direction as the front door opens.

He's not thrilled with this new apartment, and he makes a mental note to get the couch moved so he can see the door from it. But he knows the sound of Yuri's bare feet on hardwood floors, so he forces himself to relax. He looks up as the nymph appears, rounds the couch without a word and stops at Otabek's knee, his eyes brilliant and wide as they look him over once, then meet his own. 

“You're back.” He sounds breathless. 

“Did you run home?” He knows the word he uses, sees how it catches the other’s attention and can see Yuri visibly still. He feels those eyes search his face, but he's got nothing to hide and lets him look.

Tentative fingers brush his jaw, then slide back farther, into his hair. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch. He can feel so much with the simple contact, feels when the other leans forward and moves to greet him. They've never kissed like this before, the kitten so unsure, like Otabek is fragile and breakable. It's different and overwhelming and if he's falling, he's going to bring Yuri with him. He reaches with his good hand, hooks fingers in Yuri's belt loops, and pulls him down.

Yuri takes the hint, straddles his lap, careful of his arm, and settles his weight, leans in to kiss him again. Otabek lets him take control, lets go and just _lives_ in the moment. Both of Yuri’s hands tug into his hair as he kisses him like it’s the end of the world. He settles his own along the swell of the other’s ass and tugs him closer, ignoring the dull pain in his arm.

When Yuri pulls back, he licks his bottom lip and pulls on the long part of Otabek’s hair. Otabek stays still and watches him. He is beauty incarnate and Otabek doesn’t deserve him. The sling is proof he can’t protect him, but Yuri has shown already he doesn’t need protection. Yuri sneaks back in for a quick kiss, then retreats, taking his hands with him, leaning back on Otabek’s knees.

“Don’t ever do that again.” Yuri mutters and he drags his fingers down Otabek’s chest, over his belt, where they hesitate, “You can’t leave me alone.”

Otabek smiles, “You knew what you were getting into.”

Fingers pull at his belt and undo it, then work at his pants, “Yeah,” he sounds distracted, “Yeah, I did. But did you?”

It’s the first time Otabek laughs in a long time and he shakes his head, “No, I really didn’t.” 

That pulls another grin from Yuri’s lips, “Good.” Yuri rises off his lap and tugs at him to move his hips so he can tear his pants away. Otabek obeys, keeps his hands to himself as Yuri drops to his knees and pushes his way between Otabek’s thighs, fingers dragging over tan skin until they hit the edges of his boxers. He looks up at Otabek and grins, keeping his eyes on his face as he pushes dainty fingers into the slit and drags them around Otabek’s member, extracting it almost delicately. Otabek quirks an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say anything.

He leans forward and drags his tongue up the underside of his cock, mouth wide and tongue flat. Otabek hisses, then closes his eyes when Yuri drops his mouth around it and pulls it to the back of his throat. Otabek manages one low noise, then the only sound in the room is the filthy wet noises Yuri’s mouth makes as he ushers him into full hardness.

When he pulls off, he continues to stroke him with one hand, letting go only to stand up and rid himself of his own pants. Otabek watches his face, enjoys the shifts of his expressions as he throws his pants and underwear across the room, leaving him in an over-sized tee shirt that just barely hangs off his shoulder. He drops down again, pushing two digits into his mouth, then reaching behind himself to, Otabek guesses, work himself open. He wouldn’t mind having a view of it, but then Yuri moves and distracts him with his mouth again.

Otabek hisses, puts his hand through Yuri’s hair and holds him still as he thrusts up into his mouth. Yuri gags, coughs around him, and he feels drool leak down the side of his member and over his balls. There’s no complaint, only an approving noise, so Otabek uses the oral cavern as he wants until the hand behind Yuri gets brought forward again, grabbing his hips. He pulls Yuri off of him and instantly the blonde is climbing up his legs, throwing his own over each side of him again.

Otabek slides down just enough, meets Yuri’s eyes as he lifts himself and lines himself up. Otabek puts his good hand on Yuri’s hip, squeezes, and Yuri slowly lowers himself. He’d barely prep’d himself, so Otabek recognizes the flinches and lets him go at his own pace. When he bottoms out, he leans forward and kisses Otabek again, moans against him, then rolls his hips.

Otabek forces himself to keep his hand on Yuri’s hip as he starts to move, forces himself to relax back as the tight heat swallows him and Yuri leans over him, biting his own lower lip. Otabek wants to sit up and kiss him, but he is also fighting the urge to just thrust upwards and he’s pretty sure he can’t do both. It takes a while, but Yuri finds a pace, breath coming in shorter bursts, until he finds his own sweet spot and his body instinctively tightens and still. 

Otabek moves his thumb in slow circles, then pulls his hand down Yuri’s thigh, “That’s it,” He says, his voice dark, he sees the reaction on Yuri’s face, makes a low hum as he tightens around him again, then begins moving faster. The blonde leans forwards farther, puts his hands on the back of the couch and begins to lift and drop himself at a devastating pace, Otabek arches into it, lets his hips pivot as Yuri finally lets his voice out in a noise that sounds like a whine.

Then he deals his final blow, puts a hand in Otabek’s hair and waits for him to open his eyes, before he says, “ _Beka_ , harder!” And Otabek doesn’t need to be told twice. He wishes he could use his other hand, but he’ll have to make due with one, holds on to Yuri’s thigh like a death-grip and thrusts up into him. He moves his hand up, over Yuri’s neck, the other dropping his head back to expose it for him, but he moves past it, into Yuri’s hair and grabs, forces him down, and holds him in a kiss as he pistons his hips upward. Yuri lets out a surprised noise, one hand dropping to Otabek’s good shoulder and holding on tight as he rides out the storm Otabek brings him.

When Otabek releases him, he leans backwards, gasping for a breath he can’t catch as Otabek continues his onslaught. He lets out a higher cry and Otabek knows he’s found Yuri’s sweet spot again, and he holds him there.

“Oh my god, Beka!” He sees stars as Yuri tightens around him, moves his hand to wrap around Yuri’s member. The blonde issues a string of curses and babble Otabek can’t bother to translate as he lets go. Warmth splashes his hand and Yuri’s stomach, his body tightens and convulses and pushes Otabek over the edge with him. Yuri’s fingers dig into his thighs just above his knees and he continues to force himself to bounce until Otabek stops pulsing inside of him.

He cracks open his eyes and gives Otabek a savage grin, then leans forward and kisses him again, drops his arms over Otabek’s shoulders in the process. Otabek is the one to break the kiss this time, drags in breaths to try to center himself again, “Jesus, Yuri.”

The other grins at his name and sighs happily, “Welcome home.”

Otabek pauses, then laughs, making Yuri’s grin grow wider, “Yes,” he finally says, “Welcome home indeed.”

Yuri buries his face in Otabek’s neck, and Otabek holds onto him.

\------*------

Otabek buys Yuri another piano. Nothing as grand as the one that had been gifted to them, but portable, easy to take with them when they move. Yuri always grins when he sees it in the corner in its case, like a soft reminder he has a place now. He tells Otabek to get something for himself, too. He’s not expecting the motorcycle.

He’s not complaining about it, either.

They ride together, Yuri’s arms around his waist, leaning into the turns, laughing when as they speed down the highway or along the coastline. Otabek takes him places he’s never been; physically and mentally. The beach, towns near and far, shopping. Yuri doesn’t care where they go, as long as they go together.

He’s not entirely thrilled when one of the trips is to the Pakhan’s mansion. It looms over gardens, dark against the bright blue sky. He keeps close to Otabek as they’re brought inside. They don’t go to the office this time. Instead, they’re taken through a few rooms until they’re brought out onto a sunny porch.

“Yuri!” He winces when he recognizes the bright voice, “You made it! Both of you, come, come join us!” Yuri peers around Otabek just to shoot a glare at Viktor, but the taller man is already moving. He keeps his glare but lets himself be sat, drags is eyes around the bright table. Tea is set, with a few small sandwiches on a tiered platter. Yakov and Katsuki are there as well, the latter drinking from a teacup, but smiles at him when he sees he’s being looked at. Yuri scowls, Otabek serves him Russian tea and pats his thigh when he sits back.

He wants to be mad, but Otabek has the hint of a smile on the edge of his lips as he listens to the conversation Viktor immediately picks up. Yuri drinks his tea. Yuri knows beginnings when he sees them. He’s not sure where everything else ended, but something new is starting here. He smiles into his teacup, but forces it away when he sets the cup down.

“So,” Viktor leans forward in his chair, holds his clasped hands in front of him, gold band glinting in the sunlight and looks between them, “When is the wedding?”

Yuri feels Otabek tense next to him, and his breath catches before he manages out a broken, “What?”

Katsuki hides his face in his hands.

Yakov sighs and stirs his tea.

Viktor opens his big mouth again.

Yuri wishes he had brought his gun.

Otabek is infinitely grateful Yuri hadn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of hate the end, but I've been dealing with some more health issues and at this point just wanted to get it done and out there for you wonderful people. Thank you for your support with this fic! As of right now, I'm not planning any more stories for this AU, so I'd say this is the end of it all!
> 
> Feel free to yell at me on [Tumblr](http://ded-i-am-just-ded.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Catch you later!


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